This Magic Moment
by MissMarquin
Summary: It's the 60's, and there are rules. You aren't supposed to fall in love with your guy friend, and you definitely aren't supposed to dance with him at prom. Modern AU, Sylvix Oneshot.


_A/N: This is another Sylvix Week piece that I never posted here, bwahahah. The prompt was Modern AU. When I picked Modern AU, the original idea definitely wasn't theme to a 60's prom, but then This Magic Moment by the Drifters came on, while I was listening to music at work and well... I got inspired. So there's that._

* * *

"It's a good color on you," Dimitri says, his lips twitching into a smile.

Sylvain hears Felix scoff before he answers. "Shut up, boar. What would you know?"

He hasn't looked yet, but Dimitri is probably right. Felix is one of those guys that can wear just about anything, and make it look good. Well, once you look past the tired bags under his eyes and permanent scowl etched deep into his face.

Really, quite fetching once you get used to the look of him.

"I would have preferred black," Felix snaps.

Dimitri hums at that. "Well your father-"

"I _know_ what my Father said." There's some shuffling of fabric and then a small hiss of annoyance. "I was there." A pause. "Sylvain."

Ah, his cue. He adjusts his jacket before stepping out of the dressing area. "It's a little tight, but the color is-"

Felix is wearing a cream-colored suit, impeccably tailored. One can't drop a cool _two hundred dollars_ and not expect it to be so. But the slim cut is an unusual one that fits his friend, and the off-white pairs well with his inky, dark locks. It hugs him in the right ways, lengths his legs and-

Sylvain swallows thickly.

Felix rakes his eyes over him and tsks. "Of _course_ you would pick something so _flashy_."

He glances down, rubbing his fingers over the material nervously. Burgundy isn't flashy, he thinks. Then he wonders why he even cares about Felix's opinion to begin with, but that's been an oddity that happens a lot lately. "Mercedes showed me the dress she bought," he replies with. "This'll pair nicely."

Felix _humphs_ at that, but says no more. It's all about propriety, they both know. They're high standing and important figures, with deep pockets and expectations to follow through with. Sylvain won the argument about going to the dance with something _so beneath him_, but his father won't expect anything less than _perfection_ at the end all of things.

So yeah, the burgundy will go very nicely with Felix's- he swallows again, dislodging that thought immediately- _with Mercedes_' dress.

"It doesn't go with your hair," Felix finally says. "It clashes."

_Good_. The suit will match his date, but there's still enough rebellion to drive his father mad-

"But… it looks good," the other man finishes, relenting.

Sylvain halts at that, looking towards Felix. He's turned away though, staring at himself in the mirror. Sylvain knows, _he knows_ that all he sees is Glenn staring back at him. Felix can't hide the downturn of his lips, or his sudden bad mood.

Neither Sylvain nor Dimitri comment on it. "Thanks, Fe," he finally answers.

Felix lips twitch into a subtle smile, and there's a pang through Sylvain's heart. It's a new feeling, whatever this is, and he's not sure he likes it.

So he doesn't dwell on it.

…

Mercedes is Goddess-sent, Sylvain decides.

Her adoptive father drops her off at his home, and even though she's never been there, she doesn't gawk.

She's soft and pretty, and everything a boy wants. Hair like a summer day, carefully pulled into a neat little bun at her neck. Minimal make-up that only enhances her natural beauty. The gentle pastel of her pink dress, matches her skin tone well, and there's a healthy glow to her cheeks.

His father stands to the side, his lips pulling into a terse frown as he surveys the girl. He hasn't chased her off yet, so… so far so good. But Sylvain can see the gears turning in his head, already looking for an out.

His mother reaches out, all smiles and cooing, taking Mercedes' hands into her own for a gentle squeeze. His date responds in kind.

Sylvain doesn't want to _marry _Mercedes; he doesn't dream of a _future with her. _She's kind and sweet, and perfect to just enjoy the company of. His parents only see _dating as a purpose_ though, and they level her with a critical eye.

Eventually she's tugged to his side, his arm around her shoulders and her hand against his chest. He was right of course, his suit and her dress work perfectly together. They look _good_.

But it feels empty.

There's a flash of an instant camera, as his mother titters excitedly and his father's jaw locks hard in displeasure. Sylvain waves it all off, tugging her through the door.

"I'm sorry," he fumbles, not like himself. He's usually calm and collected, but as of late he's not himself. His parents bring out the worst in him. He opens the passenger door of his Mustang, shuffling her in.

"Whatever for?" she asks, that kind smile she's so known for ever present on her lips.

"My parents."

"Sylvain, there's nothing to apologize for," she says. "I understand."

Right. She gets it, the expectation of _marrying well and being useful_. Her situation isn't the same exactly, but it's not far off. But they've bonded over it as friends, and it's always lurking between them. It feels cruel to be thankful for it. He takes her hand gently, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, before pulling it to his lips and kissing it gently.

Her smile widens, and he thinks for a second, if he _has_ to marry someone, she really wasn't a bad choice.

But there's nothing there; there's no spark.

He doesn't know why it disappoints him so.

…

Felix squirms uncomfortably, and Ingrid looks just as miserable by his side.

Sylvain knows that a prom really isn't his kind of event, but as a _Fraldarius_, he's expected to go. Ingrid regards him with a calculated fondness because she loves Felix- they all did- but it's different for her. She doesn't see Felix, she sees Glenn. Even if he's a shorter, longer-haired version with a penchant for looking constantly aggravated, the resemblance is there.

Ingrid looks at him like he's the _whole moon_, but it's outshined by the utter sadness that settles beside it.

The food is gross, the punch isn't spiked yet, and while the band is good, they aren't playing anything worth while. So the four of them sit at a table in silence, watching Dimitri from afar as he flirts with one of their teachers.

They've been there for more than an hour, indulging in only a few dances drowned in awkwardness. Sylvain watches as Ingrid reaches out, trying to grasp Felix's hand, but he pulls away, barely holding back a snarl.

She yanks back, like she's been burned, excusing herself for the bathroom.

Oh Goddess, this is by far _the worst time he's ever had, anywhere_. It's painful to watch.

When Dimitri finally comes back, balancing several cups of punch, he regards the table with confusion. "Where's Ingrid?"

Felix loses it then. He finally snaps, cutting through that thread that's been wearing thinner and thinner and _thinner_ since the moment they stepped through those gymnasium doors. He stands abruptly, pushing out from the table and stalking right out the entrance.

Dimitri blinks, Sylvain sighs and Mercedes reaches out for his hand that's settled in his lap. Her fingers are warm and soft, and when he looks to her, she's smiling.

"Go after him," she says.

"He doesn't need a babysitter," Sylvain replies, a little sour. He absolutely wants to though. He wants to comfort him, because Felix _hurts_, he's hurt for a long time. And he wants to _fix_ it.

"That isn't what I implied."

"His father was wrong to make him ask her."

Mercedes' hums at that. "Yes," she agrees.

"And Ingrid was wrong to accept."

"She cares for Felix," Mercedes reminds him.

"We _all_ do, but it's not as if she actually see him. It's clear on her face, she's still-" But Sylvain can't finish the sentence, because even three years later, Glenn's death is a wound still as fresh as the day it happened.

For Felix, most of all.

"It's unfair to him," Sylvain finally sighs. He leans back in the hard folding chair, his head hanging as he stares at the ceiling blankly.

"Yes, it is." It's surprising that she agrees with him. "But in the end, appearances are all that matter." Sylvain is taken aback by the lack of sincerity in her voice. It's rare that Mercedes crafts a hardened edge for herself, but when she does… well, _she's scary._

Sylvain blinks and looks back to her, taking in her terse smile. Suddenly, her hand seems cold on his.

"I would say that Ingrid doesn't know any better, but I'd be wrong. She knows exactly what she's doing, and that's why it hurts her as well."

_Well_. She's not wrong. Ingrid doesn't _like_ seeing Glenn every time Felix comes into focus. But she can't help it, and she allows it to continue.

"Go after him," she says again, quietly.

Sylvain lets out a dark chuckle. "I don't know what kind of difference _I_ will make."

"I think that you do." Her smile shifts into something secretive, and he opens his mouth to retort, but nothing happens. Words fail him.

It's that feeling again, that pang through his heart, the one that he really, _really_ wants to ignore. But he can't. He can't, he can't, he _can't-_

A look of panic must flash across his face, because she squeezes his hand. "Sylvain," she says softly. "It's _okay_."

He doesn't think it is, but he goes to Felix anyway.

…

He finds Felix directly outside by the track. The doors to the gym are still open, and they can hear laughter and music floating from it, but it's otherwise lonely. He's pulled off his jacket, having thrown it over a bleacher. His tie has been loosed, pulled half apart and hanging limply below his throat.

"Hey," Sylvain says.

Felix reels. "She-" he starts, but then stops. Even as angry as he is, he can't find anything bad to say. He _won't_ say anything bad, because deep down, he knows that Ingrid hurts _just as much_.

"It's okay," Sylvain says, remembering Mercedes' words. He says them with a different context, but they still feel right.

"Your date is inside," Felix snaps instead. "You shouldn't leave her."

"Mercie is fine," Sylvain says. "She sent me out here."

Felix scoffs at that, and Sylvain winces. _Okay, not the right thing to say_.

"There's no point in wasting your time out here with me."

Sylvain isn't prepared for how sad those words make him feel, because he cannot think of anywhere else he'd rather be. He steps forward, reaching out and grabs Felix's wrist. He doesn't mean to, really. He doesn't think about it, it's just _instinct._

Felix freezes, body tense as he looks back at him.

Sylvain blurts the first thing that comes to mind. "Dance with me."

_What_.

"_What?_" But Felix doesn't sound angry, he sounds surprised. His eyes narrow and Sylvain swallows, practically choking on his own spit.

_Goddess he's stupid. Why the fuck did he say that?_

Instead, Sylvain says, "We can hear the music out here. Dance with me."

Sylvain expects for him to hiss and snap back with an _Idiot_, but Felix replies dumbly with, "Okay."

_Oh Goddess what now_.

But it's easy, reaching out with his other hand. Felix turns and takes his hand. It's not awkward, at least, not really. The only awkward thing is the heavy pounding of his heart and the nervous sweat breaking out on his palms, but everything about this feels _right_.

Music wafts out from the gymnasium and they turn slightly. It's stilted as they try and find their steps, but Sylvain chuckles at it. Felix _tsks_, like he always does, but adjusts his footing slightly as his hand winds up to Sylvain's shoulder.

Felix looks uncomfortable, pulling away slightly. "Look, I-"

_This magic moment, so different and so new-_

They pause at the song wafting from inside.

"I like this song," Sylvain says quietly, pulling Felix back to him. "It's a new one."

"Sylvain-"

Sylvain won't tell you that he can sing because he doesn't like to, but he hums along with the chorus and Felix falls quiet. They don't move much, just swirl in a circle slightly and-

Sylvain doesn't want this to end, he realizes. "You look handsome tonight." He tugs lightly at the undone tie and Felix scowls.

"Don't joke."

"I'm not." He grips Felix's chin, lifting it slightly as they sway. "She's being unfair to you," Sylvain continues finding his other hand, lacing their fingers together. Felix's hand is calloused from fencing, but it's warm. And Sylvain likes holding it. A lot. "You know that I never will be."

Felix stops abruptly, nearly tripping him. "_Sylvain_," he says quietly, and he can feel Felix's adam's apple bob against his fingers as he swallows. "You _are_ being unfair."

_Sweeter than wine, softer than the summer night. Everything I want I have, whenever I hold you tight-_

Felix swallows again, and Sylvain rubs at the skin along his jaw.

"_Felix_," he starts.

"Just fucking _do_ it, if you're going to."

Sylvain hesitates. Felix doesn't. Felix lets go of his him, grabbing Sylvain by the face, yanking him down. Sylvain is surprised, nearly tripping, but then there's Felix's lips and _oh-_

_Fuck._

Sylvain's kissed a lot of girls before, but they're shy and timid, and nothing like the harsh lines and strong shoulders of Felix under his grip. The other man threads his fingers into Sylvain's coat, pressing against him insistently and he just falls into the embrace.

Yeah, it takes about half a second for Sylvain to kiss back, and _yeah it's absolutely worth it._ His lips are soft, and he's all breathy, and Sylvain feels the blood start to pool within him. His hand comes up, slinking into Felix's hair, pulling at it lightly. He angles his face different, slipping his tongue in and-

Felix pulls back to breathe, red-faced and embarrassed, eyes shining bright as he comes down from the contact high. Sylvain paws at his face, smoothing his fingers across his jaw, brushing back his bangs, trying to touch literally every inch of skin that he can, and Felix just _sinks_ into it.

"Wow," Sylvain sputters. "I mean- _Fe, _I… _Wow_."

"Just-" Felix breathes, chest heaving as he tries to gather himself, "Tell me that I didn't _waste_ that. Please."

"Waste- _No_." Sylvain traps his cheeks between his hands, pressing their foreheads together. "Goddess Felix, you have no idea how hard it's been to fight this."

Because of his family. Because he's the heir to the Gautier Fortune. Because he's supposed to marry high and young, have children and carry on his so called duty.

It hurts, that he's loved Felix for so long, and he didn't even _realize_ it until recently.

"Ingrid is stupid, but so are you," Felix accuses.

"Yeah," Sylvain replies, tilting his head to kiss below the other man's ear.

"You've worn a different girl on your arm every week, for _years_."

"Not my most stellar moments." He kisses Felix's jaw.

"And _this_ is?" Felix asks, and the question burns through Sylvain hot like a coal. He pulls back again, surveying him, looking into the depths of those amber brown eyes. This is what he's been missing, he realizes.

"Didn't you hear the song? _This magic moment-"_

Felix pushes at him, but Sylvain is like a rock in his arms. He doesn't budge. He presses his thumb against his cheek gently, before ghosting along his lips. "Felix, it goes without saying that I love you."

"_Idiot_," Felix says, but it's good natured and-

Sylvain kisses him again, this time slower and softer. Felix throws his arms around his neck, clinging to him like he's afraid that he'll disappear. Sylvain hums that stupid song under his breath, but he loves it, he loves everything about this.

When they finally go back inside the table, he knows they haven't fooled anyone. They're red faced with swollen lips and ruffled suit jackets. Dimitri won't look him in the eye, just babbling awkwardly. Mercedes has that knowing grin on her face, that damn woman and Ingrid-

Ingrid must have gone after Felix eventually and saw the two of them, because when she meets Sylvain's gaze, she mouths a simple _Thank you._

He smiles, full and genuine and he feels his heart soar, before he mouths it back.


End file.
